


Unexpected Touches

by sparxwrites



Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Marking, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Pre-Slash, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedikiah’s hand is heavy on the back of his neck. It’s becoming a habit of his uncle’s, Stephen’s noticed, a friendly pat on the back – in and of itself unusual, because Jedikiah’s not a tactile person – that turns into the hand sliding up his spine, past his shoulders, until the webbing between Jedikiah’s thumb and forefinger is warm against his nape.</p><p>It’s the third time it’s happened this week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Touches

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally Jediphened. Sorry not sorry… Blame as always rests entirely on protectivesamgirl uwu

Jedikiah’s hand is heavy on the back of his neck. It’s becoming a habit of his uncle’s, Stephen’s noticed, a friendly pat on the back – in and of itself unusual, because Jedikiah’s not a tactile person – that turns into the hand sliding up his spine, past his shoulders, until the webbing between Jedikiah’s thumb and forefinger is warm against his nape.

It’s the third time it’s happened this week.

“This is Stephen, one of our up-and-coming recruits,” Jedikiah’s saying, except Stephen’s finding it a little hard to concentrate because the hand is still there, thumb on one side of his neck and fingers on the other, bracketing it in a way that looks friendly but feels like a warning. “He’s doing well – although you’ve still got a way to go, haven’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, distractedly, not formally enough considering who he’s speaking with – agents from some other branch of Ultra in a different city, somewhere high up in the ranking. Jedikiah had briefed him about it earlier, before they’d arrived, but it had gone in one ear and out the other. Thankfully, the two people in front of him look distinctly bored, and they don’t seem to be paying enough attention to pick him up on his lapse in manners.

That doesn’t mean Jedikiah isn’t.

“I mean, yes,” he corrects himself, quickly, at the slight pressure of fingers pressing against his neck, some strange backwards strangle that’s utterly non-painful but somehow all the more threatening for it. “It’s… it’s an honour to be involved with Ultra, to be able to help, but I’m still learning.”

The pressure on his neck doesn’t let up, even though he sees Jedikiah smile out of the corner of his eye, businesslike and pleasant and decidedly not looking at his nephew. “We’re expecting great things from you, aren’t we, Stephen?” he says, eyes still on the two other agents of Ultra even as his fingers tighten a little further, curling in a little so his nails are pressing into soft skin.

It takes everything Stephen has not to wince, not to pull away. He’s not going to humiliate himself like that in front of the two agents – not going to give Jedikiah the satisfaction of knowing that, as always, he’s pushing all of his buttons.

“Um,” he says, instead, not terribly coherent; the nails dig harder, pressing into the fleshy bits of his neck, unprotected by bone or any real muscle. “Yes,” he grits out, teeth clenched, hoping no one has noticed the tension in his jaw, the way he’s sure his skin is denting around Jedikiah’s fingers. “Yes, the- standards are very high. I’m working hard to keep up with them.”

The hand around his neck loosens, slides away, back down his spine past his shoulder blades, and is then gone. “Good,” says Jedikiah, mildly, and this time he actually looks at Stephen – meets his eye and smiles, the most polite shark in the entire ocean.

“Well,” he continues, directing his attention back at the Ultra agents, ignoring Stephen again as quickly as he’d deigned to grace him with his attention. “If you’d like to follow me, we can proceed with the rest of the tour. Our experimental genetics section is doing some  _excellent_  work I think you’ll be very interested in. If the program works, we’re considering submitting an application for it to be rolled out across all the branches…”

They disappear seconds later, and Stephen’s left standing in the middle of the hallway, the back of his neck feeling cold, unprotected in the absence of his uncle’s hand.

He raises a slow, thoughtful hand to it, rubbing first at the nape of his neck and then at the sides of it, where Jedikiah’s fingers had dug in. The pressure hadn’t been enough to bruise, he thinks – hopes – but there are marks left from the nails, small half-crescents he can feel as dents under the roughness of his fingertips.

People pass around him in the hall, a flowing tide that doesn’t seem to notice or care about the teenage boy in the middle of it. He’s left standing there, pressing fingers into his neck to feel the sharp memory of pinpricks of pain – and lying to himself without realising it about what, exactly, the stirring he can feel in the pit of his stomach is.


End file.
